


Misery Needs Company

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Desperation, I Made Myself Cry, I almost hate myself for writing this, Leaving, M/M, Real Madrid CF, Sad, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:44:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2425841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iker has something to tell Sergio</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Needs Company

“Sergio.” 

The name is spoken quietly almost a whisper. Sergio looks up from his phone to look at Iker, who’s standing in the doorway. Everything about the other man’s stance screams false security and relaxation. Sergio’s eyes narrow and he frowns slightly. 

“Iker, what’s wrong?” His voice is filled with concern. 

“I’m leaving.” The words are blunt, but there’s such pain and terror filling every letter that Sergio jumps to his feet, phone forgotten on the couch. 

“What?” Sergio doesn’t understand, there’s a rushing in his ears. He searches Iker’s eyes and finds only numbness. “Where are you leaving?”

“Madrid.” Iker’s voice cracks as though the admission has broken some part of him deep inside. The rushing in Sergio’s ears gets worse and he stumbles toward Iker in disbelief. Iker catches him out of reflex and clutches his best friend’s shirt as if it’s a life line. Sergio can feel the tears coming, knows that they are collecting on his bottom lids, ready to fall like rain. A sad bitter rain. Iker’s eyes are dry, but the emptiness, the complete apathetic expression in his eyes is only contradicted by the grip he has on Sergio’s shirt.

“You can’t leave Madrid. You are Madrid. Madrid is you.” Sergio says and feels the sob rising in his throat. “Fuck it, Iker. Where are you going? Why are you going?” He’s staring into those empty eyes like a lost child, helpless and terrified. Real Madrid without Iker was like a fish without water, piaya without chicken, or chorizo without spices. It just couldn’t exist. 

“England, Manchester City.” Iker answers his voice halting. Sergio digs his face into Iker’s shoulder, wetting the keeper’s shirt with his tears. 

“You can’t leave. You can’t leave me.” Sergio’s words are muffled by Iker’s shoulder but he can still hear them and with those words, that one sentence, Iker crumples. He drops to his knees, Sergio still holding tight to him and now Sergio isn’t the only one crying. Iker’s quiet sobbing shakes his narrow shoulders and Sergio holds tight to him, silent tears running down his face. 

Iker digs his face into Sergio’s collar bone, the bridge of his nose pressed tight against it. He wants to scream and run and punch something, all at the same time. Inevitability has fucked up his life. 

“They said I wasn’t good enough. They said I wasn't Madrid anymore.” He mumbles and Sergio takes in a deep shuddering breath. 

“I’m going to kill the bastards.” His teeth are gritted and his voice trembles with anger and sudden hatred. Iker puts a hand to Sergio’s cheek.

“No, nene.” The words are so broken and drained that Sergio drops his defiant gaze and another tear rolls down his cheek. Iker runs his thumb over Sergio’s cheekbone, whipping away his tears. Softly and carefully Iker kisses the bridge of Sergio’s nose and then his cheek and then lastly his lips. Trembling and broken they find each other somewhere in the middle and desperation takes over from there. Misery always needs company.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't decide if I want to make a second part to this or not. It sort of just ended. Anyway, let me know and if you have any prompts or suggestion that would be lovely.
> 
> Thank you all.


End file.
